


Memories

by Bonniehae



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Elliot is just mentioned, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, also the other Glens are here but not enough to make them characters, because the manga didn't talk about it and I like pain, it's just big sad, the romance factor is pretty subdued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonniehae/pseuds/Bonniehae
Summary: He started the night by trying to lay down on his own bed, trying to get some hours of sleep that he so desperately needed, and failed miserably to do so. His room was cramped and ugly and cold and he couldn’t bear to stay there anymore. The others always tried to convince him to sleep in the Duke’s room, but the sheer thought of sleeping there made him nauseous.
Relationships: Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Memories

It was cold in the Nightray estate. Not that it was ever particularly warm there, the walls were so thick they isolated most of the heat from outside, but lately he felt colder than ever. There were no lit candles in the room; he didn’t have the strength or the will to light any. But his eyes were used to the darkness as if it was light by now, he didn’t really care about it. The moon was filtering through the curtains just enough to let him know that he wasn’t asleep.

He started the night by trying to lay down on his own bed, trying to get some hours of sleep that he so desperately needed, and failed miserably to do so. His room was cramped and ugly and cold and he couldn’t bear to stay there anymore. The others always tried to convince him to sleep in the Duke’s room, but the sheer thought of sleeping there made him nauseous. So he got up, uncaring of anyone who might have heard him, and he walked the familiar path to Elliot’s old room. How many times he walked those same steps, playing a game to avoid the embellishments of the rug on the floor, and then barging into Elliot’s room because he knew Elliot never minded his presence. Not once he was seriously scolded for not knocking. He opened the door, and the room was dark. Nonetheless, he knew the shape of everything by heart, and it was ridiculous, Leo, you’ve been living here for two years.

Naturally, he broke down like a glass fallen on stone. He was convinced he did this to himself on purpose, seeking the places and the things that reminded him the most of Elliot because he wanted the pain, he wanted to not breathe for how much he was crying. He craved that piercing burn in his stomach, the guilt taking over his whole body. Every single limb of his was on fire, burning up with notion that Elliot wasn’t there because of him, and nothing anyone told him could convince him otherwise. His throat was closed deep, close to his lungs, the air barely escaping his lips and he hoped he could choke but he couldn’t. But it was good, it was what he was looking for, the raging hot pain of his guilt was so much better than the cold awareness of reality.

“You cannot keep doing this.”

-Shut up! – he yelled to the room, and his voice bounced on the walls and disappeared, and he felt much smaller.

“You’re not mourning anymore, you’re killing yourself.”

-I said shut up!

His voice was so stained with tears, and he had no idea how it came up from his congested throat, but he sounded weak and unconvincing and if the voices were quiet it was out of pity more than obedience. Just because now he understood what the voices were, it didn’t mean he was going to let them talk. He crawled over to Elliot’s bed, sitting on the covers without bothering to get his shoes off, and he closed on himself, clutching his legs on his chest. The tears stained his cheeks in their trail like burning wax, dripping down on his knees and thighs, his heart racing in his chest. He wished everything would just stop, get him away from the pain of existence without giving him the responsibility of doing so, but it couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure how much he’d have to hurt himself to actually die, and he definitely wasn’t brave enough to try and fail.

The tears stopped after a while, leaving him awake and consumed on Elliot’s bed, staring at the emptiness in front of him, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. His breath got slower, his body repairing the damage he did to himself and he hated every second of it. He could feel the scratches he left on his face healing. Not even a tangible proof of his pain besides his malnourished body and deep sunken eyes. So now he found himself in Elliot’s dark room, tempted to hold his breath until he gasped for air but too burned out to actually try and do it.

“Glen”

-Stop… – he stuttered, so weak he couldn’t even cry anymore – Just stop…

Every gesture was painful, even thinking was painful. He never wanted anything in his life more than he yearned to stop existing in that moment. But he couldn’t do it, not by himself. He was sure, and it was pathetic, that if he’d been a normal person the lack of sleep and even just the pain he felt would have gotten him killed by now.

-There you are, master.

His request to shut up was strangled in his throat when he realized the voices were silent, they hadn’t spoken Somebody else had. And he didn’t need to look at the door to see who that was.

-Go away – he ordered, so faint and shaky he wanted to punch himself for that. But Vincent didn’t go away. Or at least, Leo didn’t hear him walk anywhere. He trailed his eyes to the door, and Vincent stood there, horrified, looking at him.

-You look like a corpse.

He flinched. That wasn’t nice or usual of Vincent to say. He pretended to care about his health, and he kept him alive, and Leo knew he didn’t appreciate his lack of collaboration, but he was never explicit in his disgust of his state. Until now.

-Does that sound like something you tell your master? – he asked without any emotion.

-You don’t look like a master should look – Vincent answered, his tone harsh with thinly concealed contempt. Leo lift his head up to meet Vincent's eyes, feeling his throat burn up with familiar rage.

-If you have something to tell me, do it now or go. Away.

Vincent walked a bit closer to the bed, giving passing glances to the room, but in the end he avoided the bed and decided to open the curtains instead, letting the moonlight shine on the floor. Leo didn’t have the strength to kick him out even he wanted to disobey him and stay quiet, so he decided to look down at his legs and wait him out. He must have had to get out at some point. Leo didn’t.

-Elliot wouldn’t want this.

A shock travelled up from his toes to his head, and if he had anything in his stomach he would have thrown up on the spot.

-Don’t say his name! – he yelled, his voice pathetically higher than usual, his eyes burning again – I forbid you to ever talk about him again!

-Master… – Vincent insisted, his voice much less slimy and subservient than during daytime, with what sounded like emotion in it – He was my brother.

“So what”, he wanted to say. He wanted to be stupid and childish and yell at him and kick him as if it could make him feel better. But Elliot wouldn’t have wanted that. He wouldn’t have wanted any of what he was doing. Vincent sat down at the foot of the bed.

-He was a good person.

-He was more than that – Leo snarled – He was… kind, and clever, and loving, and strong. And so… so stupid.

Tears started burning down his cheeks again.

-He was the best of us – Vincent agreed. Leo grimaced at the saccharine remark.

-What would you know?

-Less than you, clearly – Vincent answered, much too swift for it to be sincere. His eyes darted on him, full of curiosity – You two seemed very close.

If he had any willpower left in him, he would have said something, but instead he just looked down. Why did he even say that? He was grateful he was there to get Elliot’s last words, but he hated the fact that he was in some way let in their relationship.

-I hope I’m not offensive – he continued, sarcasm permeating his words, and Leo braced himself for the inevitable – But… your relationship, were you… more than friends?

Oh well. So much for reputation. As if he needed any more reasons to cry, of course their avoidance of the problem hadn't been enough. And when everything was still going fine, they got so close and they might have just given in but reputation and guilt and public acceptance were always in the way. And then they didn’t have time to think about it anymore. And then it was too late.

-So what? – he whispered, voice wet with the beginning of another stream of tears. How it hurt, to say it like that, after everything they did to conceal it to themselves.

-So it is true – Vincent murmured to himself, hardly surprised – I always thought he didn’t like girls, but I was never sure…

So shallow. Like everybody was, always, around that matter. Obviously they loved each other, deeply, in so many ways. But of course people always immediately ran to the fact that they were apparently engaged in homosexual activities. He wasn’t an idiot, he remembered the people at Pandora, even when he tried opening up about everything that happened, about the vague memories, without even hinting at anything more private than the fact they shared a room at school, he remembered the people on the sides looking at him and whispering “So this boy with the Nightray heir… to even fathom…” “Who would have thought, with that sort of upbringing…” “Have you heard, they say he’s a Baskerville, he must have swindled him…” As if that was the worst part of what they did. Of what he did.

-He never liked boys either for that matter – he snapped.

Vincent gave a knowing, albeit condescending, smile.

-I didn’t mean to judge…

-He only loved me because I’m Glen – he interrupted Vincent, ice cold. Did he believe that? Hard to say, but thinking it could have been true caused him so much pain – I roped him in that. I forced him to love me.

Vincent did not seem to believe that.

-Forgive my arrogance, master – he began, measuring his words – But he wasn’t talking to Glen when he apologized.

Leo had a small hiccup. He wasn’t, Vincent said. So what if he wasn’t?

-I killed him with my own hands – he said, unsure of why he was opening up so much about it – I took his life in my hands, I… I changed his fate, and instead of letting him die how he was meant to, I pushed him through so much pain…

His mind was numb and screaming and he could only hear dead silence.

-He would have never loved me if he’d known.

-But he knew.

He looked at Vincent, who was looking at him with a smile. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, a sincere one, but Leo was fairly sure Vincent didn’t know how to smile properly.

-In the end, he knew. He died rejecting the Chain, not simply by his sword.

He didn’t have to say anything else. He died after understanding everything Leo did. And Elliot, arrogant Elliot, he would have hated knowing that Leo was making his suicide about himself. And still, when given the chance to deliver his last words…

-He killed himself. He… he said he’d never do that, he… – he must have been crying too much lately, because he couldn’t get tears to leave his eyes – He promised me.

-He died a hero – Vincent commented – He would have died anyway, and he chose the only path that let him die how he was meant to. With honour.

-What honour is there in death? – Leo asked, strangled, remembering the words that Elliot so often said to him – He deserved so much more. And I… he got tied up with me instead.

-You know it wasn’t all you – Vincent tried once more – The Nightray duke, he let this happen-

-I didn’t ask for your opinion – Leo interrupted him, distant and swift. Vincent decided not to answer, and the conversation fell into a ticking silence. Tied up was a decent way to explain their relationship. They couldn’t let the other go even if they tried, and God knows they tried as soon as they realized.

-Did you… love him?

Leo raised an eyebrow, surprised at Vincent’s insistence.

-How could I not.

What a stupid question. Who wouldn’t have loved Elliot if given the chance? Whomever was so lucky to get Elliot’s attention, he always thought, he would have hit them until they felt the same. Of course, when he realized he wasn’t going to have that problem it got somehow harder. Vincent looked pleased with the answer for a moment, but then his face grew sad.

-And you don’t think he would be disappointed in you?

For a split second, the accusation tore his chest open. But in the haze of pain he found the power to give one dazed smile.

-Who cares? – he said – Is he here to tell me? Do you expect me to listen to you because you go tossing his name around?

-At least in his memory…

-Memories are for the living – he murmured – And to say I’m living would be a stretch.

“Then why even put up a fight”

-Leave, Vincent.

Vincent took a deep breath and got out of the room, leaving him once more alone in his thoughts.

“Let me do this.”

The man with red eyes was almost shouting now. You will hurt others, he told him.

“You don’t care about anyone.”

Not anymore.

“Then let me.”

Not yet.

“What are you waiting for?”

I don’t know, he said. Maybe for someone to break me. To destroy me. Maybe for someone to let me remember just how little I’m worth by myself.

“You know you shouldn’t” the man with white hair told the other “He’s Glen now, you’re disrespecting his power.”

“He can’t mourn that boy any longer, we don’t have time. If he doesn’t take his own responsibilities, I’ll do it for him.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that was sad eh. I know the ending is quite vague, but I felt like it was appropriate. I hope nobody was ooc... Thank you very much for reading, please leave a comment if you enjoyed it (for how much this can be enjoyed)!  
> PS: I'm not sure how to rate this if you don't agree with my rating I'll change it!


End file.
